Ignorance halts disease erasure

In 1986 I led a Rotary Group Study Exchange team to the Amazon region of Brazil. Brazil was a fairly modern country then, even more so now, but we were all taken-aback when we saw the surprising number of physically handicapped people among the population. Many of them were begging on the streets.

When we queried our hosts about this they told us that polio was rife in the community. We were shocked of course; the debilitating disease had pretty much been eliminated in the late 1950’s in first-world countries, thanks initially to the Salk injected vaccine and later the Sabin oral vaccine.

In 1979 Rotary International announced a project to wipe out the disease everywhere. There are 18,000 Rotary clubs and 850,000 members worldwide and we were all encouraged to contribute annually to advance this worthy goal.

Poliomyelitis tends to strike the young; in fact when I was a lad it was more commonly known as infantile paralysis, but as recently as 1988 the disease was endemic to 125 countries paralysing or killing 350,000 people each year, mostly children.

The disease can be carried in waterways and this is disastrous for third-world countries. A minute amount of contaminated water can introduce the virus to the mucus membranes of the mouth where it can eventually find its way to the central nervous system, destroying the motor neurons that allow the muscles to move, leading to paralysis of the legs, sometimes the arms and in the worst cases the muscles that control breathing.

The United Nations got behind the Rotary initiative as did the U.S. Centre for Disease Control and in 2007 Bill and Melinda Gates chipped in as well, spending $1 billion of their personal fortune to help Rotary battle the disease saying: “This is one of the smartest allocations of resources the world can make.”

Time magazine recently reported that thanks to the exhaustive philanthropic and political teamwork the virus has been corralled into only three countries Pakistan, Nigeria and Afghanistan. In 2012 there were only 215 cases worldwide.

But according to Time, during a polio vaccine drive in Pakistan last December, nine field workers – six of them women or teenage girls – were killed by a motorcycle drive-by shootings linked to the Pakistani Taliban. In January, six more women and one man, all of them medical aid workers, were similarly shot to death. All of that bloodshed followed a Taliban edict last June to halt the scheduled immunisation of 161,000 children in the North Pakistan province of Waziristan until American drone strikes stop.

“In the garb of these vaccination campaigns,” said one piece of Taliban propaganda “The U.S. and its allies are running their spying networks.” This is nonsense of course, but the lie got its legs in 2011 when it was revealed that in the run-up to the killing of Osama bin Laden, a Pakistani doctor masqueraded as a hepatitis-vaccine worker in an attempt to collect cheek swabs from family members in bin Laden’s compound to try to confirm he was living there.

Other outlandish rumours are spread by the Taliban, such as the claim that the polio vaccine contains HIV, or that it’s made from pig or monkey urine, and that its real role is to sterilize children. Whether it’s because of the fear of outsiders or the general suspicion of anything being promoted by that “Great Satan” - the West - the lies gain traction.

Not being able to get to the Taliban-controlled sectors of the world with such a worthy project is monstrous. Polio unchecked moves fast. In 2003 the disease appeared to be near its end and Rotary were contemplating packing their bags and declaring victory when clerics in Northern Nigeria halted inoculations on the basis of the rumours about sterility and the HIV contamination. Two years later, polio cases, nearly all of them of the Nigerian strain, were raging across sixteen countries throughout Asia and down to Oceania.

Rotary International calculate that $1 billion spent per year over the next few years to extinguish the last fugitive strains of polio could save up to $50 billion over the next 20 years, both in treatment costs for infected children and in the perpetual hold-the-line vaccination programmes that must be maintained as long as the virus is at large.

Viruses and bacteria have had their way with humans since the dawn of history; a species versus species war we have too often lost. “We are on the brink of wiping out a virus that richly deserves extinction,” says Time correspondent Jeffrey Kluger. “The war may be slow, but there is no tonic like a big victory over a disease to ensure there will be more victories to come.”

Now, if only we could find a vaccination that would eliminate the Taliban.

“In every age the vilest specimens of human nature are to be found among demagogues” - Lord Macaulay

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Endeavouring to hold the peace

Last weekend we celebrated our fiftieth wedding anniversary with a modest family luncheon which included our four children, their spouses and seven grandchildren. One of our grandsons is old enough and I suspect capable enough of siring his own child so I must take him aside and talk to him about the birds and the bees and hopefully delay that inevitability. I’m not old and doddery enough yet to be a great-grandfather; a personal view that might well be disputed by the other members of the family.

My wife says I’m one in a million. The wrong one! Actually I just made that up. In fact, I suspect that even before I wake each morning she gets on her hands and knees and thanks her maker for leading her to such an inspiring choice of husbands. I must admit though that this is pure speculation, and may have no basis in fact.

The truth is she must have come close to leaving me just minutes after we were married. We tied the knot on Masterton Show day in 1963 at around 5 o’clock in the afternoon, and after the nuptials we were greeted by our butcher’s shop staff dressed as funeral directors, complete with top hats, forming a guard of honour at the church door.

They and some friends had also sent off the taxis and had replaced these with horses and gigs. We were then paraded down the main street, now full of people coming home from the show, bagpipers in front, the undertakers next and the horses and two gigs with the bridal party bringing up the rear. My new bride, who hailed from Eketahuna, didn’t know what she’d struck.

I was determined to get even at the future weddings of those who had perpetrated this and I didn’t have to wait long. Lew Milne was to marry Alison Cooke in Greytown. I was to be a groomsman. Lew was a stock agent and had organised the horses and carts for our wedding from Tom Hood at Kopuaranga. Retribution was in sight.

It had always occurred to me that it would be exceptionally funny if somebody responded when the minister intoned the words: “If anyone can show any just cause why these two should not be lawfully joined together in holy matrimony, let them now speak or hereafter forever hold their peace.” Mind you, it’s quite difficult to find anyone who will actually make a response. Locally no one was prepared to do it.

I had a friend in Wellington named Ian Dawson who owned the Sorrento coffee bar and managed The Libretto’s, New Zealand’s foremost rock band at the time, and I rang him to see if he could find an outgoing Wellingtonian who might be able to assist. He rang back and said he’d found someone, but the price would be quite high. I agreed to pay whatever it cost.

The wedding was at 4.30 p.m. at the Methodist establishment at the north end of Greytown. The groom and we groomsmen were resplendent in white ties and tails and the little church was packed; standing room only. When the minister, I’ll never forget his name, Reverend Hornblow, made the statement I was anticipating “If anyone can show any just cause etc., speak now or forever hold your peace.” there was the usual pregnant pause.

Then suddenly a dapper little chap in a dark suit and thin black tie came running up the aisle; “Stop the wedding, stop the wedding,” he cried. You could have cut the tension in the air with a knife. My expensive thespian got to the startled couple, looked them up and down and said, “Oh no. Sorry! Wrong wedding” and ran back out the other aisle.

At this juncture I assumed that the congregation would burst out laughing, the wedding would continue without further delay, and afterwards I would be congratulated by all and sundry for organising the ultimate practical joke. Not so. Close family members of the bride suffered discomfiture; some quite seriously. Nobody laughed, not the least the Reverend Hornblow, who stumbled through the rest of the ceremony as though it was his first outing. There was a pall over the breakfast and I was sent to Coventry by most of the guests, though I must say the bride and groom took it in good humour.

On the Sunday I sat down and wrote a long letter of apology to the brides’ parents. The Methodist vestry held an emergency meeting on Monday and considered taking me before a church tribunal to discourage other misguided humourists from attempting the same prank. However, they had seen the letter I had written to Mr. and Mrs. Cooke, assumed I was repentant, and asked that a similar letter be sent to them, and all would be forgiven.  I couldn’t write that second letter quickly enough.

The Sunday News ran the story, describing me as having “a curious sense of humour,” whatever that means. They asked for comment from prominent clergy in Auckland.  Most were strongly condemnatory.

I was more circumspect at future weddings of friends.

The dapper Wellingtonian who had made the foray up the church aisle was a regular patron at the Sorrento coffee bar, an Argentinean named ‘Chico.’ They never did send me the bill. I’m not sure whether they forgot or if they felt sorry for me for all the trouble I had got myself into.

I’d like to think it was the latter. Though to be fair, I probably didn’t deserve the sympathy.

“Before a marriage a man declares that he would lay down his life to serve you. After marriage he won’t even lay down his newspaper to talk to you.”  -  Helen Rowland.

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Everybody wants to go to heaven

What’s with this word Karma? It seems to have suddenly entered our vernacular and is now getting frequent usage. Hekia Parata used it recently, apparently suggesting that the Novapay debacle was “karma” for the teachers daring to challenge her and her ministry whenever they tried to institute change.

According to my trusty Chambers dictionary karma is a Buddhist and/or Hindu based word used to describe a transcendental retribution for something done that perhaps ought not to have been done; the theory of inevitable consequence generally.

Somehow in the increasingly secular world it has replaced the age-old belief that a mystical out-of-world figure, believed by many to be God, punishes you for any wrongdoing. This doctrine leads to that oft-heard exclamation: “What have I done to deserve this?” Why we have suddenly decided to apply eastern mysticism to what was once comprehended in plain English is anybody’s guess.

Although action and reaction is a scientifically proven concept I doubt that it extends to our personal misfortunes. I guess it’s not uncommon for someone who discovers they have a terminal illness to ask “why me?” but unless their diet or lifestyle has contributed in some way then surely it’s just the luck of the draw rather than retribution from a deity.

Our contemplations of this complex ideology were sharpened by the recent in-depth evaluations of the life and times of broadcaster Paul Holmes just prior to his untimely demise. In a soul-searching interview Janet McIntyre wanted to know did he believe in the afterlife and did he think he was going there. Paul said he hoped he had done enough, though he conceded that he was scared.

Later in a radio interview Pam Corkery let slip that Paul was a serial philanderer, though she herself had not succumbed. Not a good look for entry into the realm of angels. And yet on the other side of the coin he brought heart-rending stories to our attention on a nightly basis, not the least being the plight of young Eve van Grafhorst who had been pilloried in Australia for having aids. Paul’s response was to bring her to our screens, show genuine love for the little girl and expose to all of us that HIV was not a transferable disease at a time when we needed to know.

And Paul certainly reached a sainthood of sorts in the various embellished Television One accolades for his contribution to their ratings; the channel conveniently forgetting that at the peak of his popularity he had left One to launch Prime, expecting further fame and a bigger fortune. Somewhat surprisingly his audience stayed with One, and Prime had to outlay a large amount of money to release him from their contract.

Further homage was paid to him when he was knighted and arose to become Sir Paul.

I met him once at a book signing at Solway Park Copthorne. Later on in the evening I spoke to him briefly and found him to be a thoroughly nice man. His claim that he “loved people” was born out when he was prepared to talk to me, a complete stranger, and genuinely show interest.

That book, his autobiography, was a best seller, but I’m not sure some of the revelations were the kind of experiences that ought to have been aired in public. Certainly in his initial courtship of Fleur Revell a dinner date was graphically described, allowing too much information and must have embarrassed the young lady unfairly. He came across as a complete cur.

I bought his next book, the award winning Daughters of Erebus, and all the time while reading it I had to stop and wonder how this man could have written such a brilliant tome.

In my view this book alone qualified him for a Knighthood.

From cur to Sir is a giant leap for mankind.

Just who is eligible for entry into the afterlife is a moot point. Certainly it would be hard for a mortal man to pass the litmus test the Bible details for admittance. However Eve’s mother reckons her daughter will be at the Pearly Gates to receive Paul and show him around.

I guess that’s karma, in the nicest possible way.

“Fame is a powerful aphrodisiac.” – Graham Greene

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If it ain’t broke, why fix it?

I have always believed that once you elect people to represent you on whatever political entity, you ought to accept the decisions they make on your behalf. After all, presuming they are diligently acquiring the facts surrounding an issue, they will inevitably know more than you to effect the conclusions they come to, even if it doesn’t necessarily fit your own careful consideration of the topic.

The eighteenth century political theorist and philosopher Edmund Burke put this hypothesis much more succinctly when he wrote: Your representative owes you, not his industry only, but his judgement, and he betrays instead of serving you, if he sacrifices it to your opinion.

And yet despite this I fear the decision made by the three Wairarapa District Councils to amalgamate and form a unitary authority thereby abandoning the services of the very generous Greater Wellington Regional Council is a risky one and if enacted, has the propensity to seriously betray their judgement.

I have spoken to a number of councillors and council officers from the three councils and I know they genuinely believe, having diligently acquired more facts than I have access to, that they can somehow absorb the $11 million shortfall without increasing rates or reducing services.

They say they have spoken at length to other local authorities who have taken on regional council roles. Gisborne City, Nelson City, Tasman District and Marlborough District all operate unitary authorities, apparently successfully, and their collective advice to the Wairarapa Governance Review Working Party committee has been positive.

Our diligent representatives believe that the Wellington regional council is over-staffed, over- regulated and over there.

Wellington has got closer to the Wairarapa in recent years with modern transport options and a hill road that is being regularly shortened. It’s a doddle now to travel to the absolutely positive capital, rated by The Lonely Planet Best in Travel 2011 as fourth on its list of the top ten cities in the world to visit. It claimed Wellington was “the coolest little capital in the world.”

Last weekend’s Rugby Seven’s tournament surely testified to this and to link up with the lively metropolis would surely be to our distinct advantage. For years Wairarapa has been a bit of a backwater and has had static growth. We are often left out of nationally quoted statistics - real estate prices for instance - and despite having a number of substantial towns within its environs only Masterton is recognised on the TV weather maps.

To join up with the Supercity may be just the conduit we’ve been looking for to make our mark in the world.

And so I’m surprised there hasn’t been more enthusiasm shown by locals to embrace this recourse. After all we flock to Wellington for our entertainment and from my observations we regularly join the crowds at Lower Hutt’s Queensgate to shop. We are eternally grateful for Wellington’s medical facilities when we are seriously sick and the recent merger of the three district health boards, Wairarapa, Hutt and Capital and Coast appears to have been met with total acceptance.

Last week, attendees at a well-attended public meeting at the superb Carterton Events Centre unanimously endorsed a resolution to slow the decision-making process down. With the government now admitting that it is unable to introduce legislation in time for this year’s local body elections this seemed like a sensible option.

But then you could well ask: why do anything at all? What is currently in place seems to be working well apart from regular rate increases. Sadly there is nothing in the alternatives proposed that might give comfort to this unsustainable situation.

Writing in this week’s Listener, Wellington economist Dr. Oliver Hartwich says that arguably the best local government system in the world is Switzerland’s. They have 2495 municipalities for 8 million people.

A similar ratio for the Wellington region would yield 155 councils. Perhaps were not over-governed after all.

“Politicians are the same everywhere. They promise to build a bridge even where there is no river.” - Nikita Khrushchev 

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